


1^ 



'{ PAINE'S 

IfOPULAR PLAYS 



1 1 



^i ■ 



^ That Awful 
- Letter 



Mac KENZIE 



PAINE PUBLISHING CO, 

DAYTON, OHIO 



NO PLAYS EXCHANGED 



New Entertainment Songt 

By Edna Randolph Worrell. 

These songs can be used in all manner of entertainments. The music 
il ea$7» and both music and words are especially catchy. Children like 
them. Everybody likes them. Sheet music. Price 26 cents each. Five 
copies, 11.00. 

WE HOPE YOU'VE BROUGHT YOUR SMILES ALONG. A 

welcome song that will at once put the audience in a joyous frame of 
mind and create a happy impression that will mean half the success of 
your entire program. Words, bright and inspiring. Music* catchy. 

WE'LL NOW HAVE TO SAY GOOD-BYE. This beautiful song 
has snap and go that will appeal alike to visitors and singers. It is just 
the song to send your audience home with happy memories of the occasion. 

WE'VE JUST ARRIVED PROM BASHFUL TOWN. This song 
will bring memories to the listeners of their own bashful school days. 
Words, unusually clever. Music, decidedly melodious. A capital welcome 
aong. or it may be sung at any time on the program with assured success. 

MY OWN AMERICA, I LOVE THEE. A song that wUl bring 
a thrill of patriotism to the heart of every one who hears it. The chil- 
dren and grown-ups just can't resist the catchy music. It snakes a cap- 
ital marching song. 

COME AND PARTAKE OP OUR WELCOME CAKE. A merry 

welcome song and a jolly one, too. The audience will be immediately 
curious about the Welcome Cake, and the children will love to surprise 
the listeners with the catchy words. Music, easy and tuneful. 

LULLABY LANE. The music and words blend so beautifully that 
people will be humming the appealing strains long after they hear this 
charming song. A wonderfully effective closing song, whether sung by 
the school or a» a solo by a little girl, with a chorus of other little girls 
with dolls. < 

JOLLY PICKANINNIES. Wor^s by Elizabeth F. Guptill. Music 
by Edna R. Worrell. This spicy coon song will bring down the house, 
especially if you use the directions for the motions which accompany the 
music. The black faces and shining eyes of the pickaninnies will guar*^ 
antee a hit. The words are great and the music just right. 

THE LITTLE BIRD'S SECRET. Here is just (he song for those 
two little folks to sing together. They won't have to be coaxed to sing 
it, especially when they find that the whole school is to whistle the chorus. 
This is a decided novelty, and will prove a rare treat to your audience. 

A GARDEN ROMANCE. This is a dainty little song telling of the 
romance and wedding of Marigold and Sweet William. It is just the 
song for dainty little girls to sing. 

COME TO THE NURSERY'^HYME GARDEN AND PLAY. 
Here is something different for the little folks to sing. The Nursery 
Rhihne Folk are so familiar to children, it will be no trick for them to 
remember the words. The music has a most captivating swing. 

Paine Publishing Company • - Dayton, Ohio 



That Awful Letter 

A Comedy for Girls 



BY 

EDNA I. MAC KENZIE 



Copyright. 1919. by 
PAINE PUBLISHING COMPANY 



PAINE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

DAYTON. OHIO 






APR 25 1919 



/Vv>o \ 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 



CHARACTERS 

Margaret Neilson — A Snobbish City Girl. 
Elizabeth Norton — Pier Country Cousin. 
Helen Montgomery — Margaret's Dearest Friend. 
Edith Browning — A Friend of Elizabeth's. 
Nora — A Maid of Neilson's 

(This part may be taken by Edith Browning.) 



Time of Playing — About Forty Minutes. 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 



SCENE I 



{Sitting-room in Neilson's house, well furnished. Mar- 
garet overdressed, is sitting reading a magazine. She looks 
up impatiently and throws it down in disgust.) 

Margaret — {crossly.) There's no use in my trying to 
read or do anything else when I'm so provoked. I don't see 
why dad can't {the hell rings) Oh, drat that bell! I don't 
want to see any person. I wish people would stay at home. 
(Goes and looks out.) Oh! it's Helen! I wonder what she 
wants now. She is always running over and I'm sure I'm 
never over there any more than four times a day at the most. 
{Helen comes in and Margaret rushes to embrace her.) Oh 
Helen, you dear girl! I'm so glad to see you. I was just 
wishing you would come over. Do take off your hat and 
stay awhile. I've just been so mad I could boil over or bite 
somebody or do something awful. 

Helen — Why, what is the matter with you ? What are you 
mad about? {Aside, It seems to me she is alzvays in hot 
zvater or a steiv about something.) 

Margaret — Well, sit down and I'll tell you about it. 
{They sit down on a couch.) It seems that dad has some 
country relations somewhere in the backwoods. He's had 
them ever since he was born but he's just remembering 
them now. Well, it seems that there's a girl about my age 
and dad was looking over some old photos last night and 
came across one of her when she was six years old. That 
picture put him into the notion that he would like to see 
that girl and nothing will do but I must write and ask her up. 

4 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Helen — That won't hurt you, will it? I think it would 
be nice to have a girl visiting you. I know when Marian 
Staddon was visiting me, we had a dandy time — parties, 
dances, and heaps of things 

Margaret — Yes, but can't you get anything into your 
head? This is a cousin from the backwoods and just imagine 
the kind of figure she'd cut in our set! Why, she'll likely 
have the oddest clothes and speak most horrible English and, 
and — not know beans. And then that would spoil all our 
plans for getting in with Edith Browning. The Brownings, 
you know, are such an aristocratic family and are the 
whole cheese since they moved to the city. I'm just crazy 
to get in with them, but of course if they saw me with that 
girl, that would spoil everything. Edith would know that 
my father had sprung from common ordinary farmers and 
we have just succeeded in making people think we had very 
important ancestors. 

Helen — (aside) Gee! but isn't she some snob. Well, 
nobody is deceived I can vouch for that, (aloud.) I know 
Edith Browning is the whole thing just at present. I've met 
her several times and think, she is lovely, (pause) not a bit 
stuck up, you know. Of course we want to get in with her, 
especially this winter when Beth Norton is going to visit her 
for everybody will be having parties and things for her. 

Margaret — And pray, who is Beth Norton? 

Helen — Don't you know ? Why, she is the girl that all the 
girls at Erskine College were just crazy about. Why, they 
say there's never been a girl there before who was as popu- 
lar. And act! Why, she took the chief parts in all their 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

plays and the girls said she had any professional actress 
beaten all to pieces. Oh yes, we must manage to get in 
with them if we can. Now about your cousin, say, why 
can't you have her up for just a couple of days and keep her 
out of the way? 

Margaret — Dad is bound that I'll invite her up for two 
weeks anyway. I can generally manage him pretty well, 
but this time he's as obstinate as a mule. I'm glad I didn't 
inherit his bad qualities. 

Helen — (aside) I think she has all of his and some of 
of her own to boot, [aloud) I have an idea. Write her such 
a letter that if she has any sense at all she'll know she's not 
wanted and then perhaps she won't come. 

Margaret — {jumping up) That is a good idea! Let's 
write it now. What shall we put into it? {goes to a table 
where there is paper and ink, sits down to write) 

Helen — {going to the table) Tell her that, — oh, I don't 
know. You ought to be good at that sort of thing. {Marga- 
ret looks tip sharply). Writing letters I mean. You can 
write such splendid ones, you know. {Margaret writes 
awhile zvhile Helen looks over her shoidder.) 

Margaret — {rising) There, that ought to do the trick. 
What do you think of it ? 

Helen — Well, if she can't take the hint from that that 
she's not wanted, she must be as dense as a — a fog! {goes 
to put on her hat.) I must go for I promised to stay only a 
few minutes. Good-bye {goes tozvards the door) I hope 
your cousin won't be too boorish if she does come. 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Margaret — Good-bye. We'll trust to luck. {Helen dis- 
appears. Margaret comes to centre of stage) Well, that 
letter is a good stunt, but my, wouldn't dad be angry if he 
knew ! But I'll chance it that he doesn't find out. Now for 
a toast. {Pretends to drink.) Here's to the refusal of my 
invitation to my country cousin. 

CURTAIN 

SCENE II 

{A country kitchen. Elizabeth in iniddy and skirt, enters 
sloichj tozvard centre of stage, examining an envelope.) 

Elizabeth {still examining envelope.) I wonder who 
this letter's from. I don't know the writing and it's from 
New York City. But there's lot of people I know there. Per- 
haps it's from one of those little girls at Erskine College that 
were always getting a crush on us bigger girls and bothering 
us to death with their gushing. Now, who is it from anyway? 
{laughing.) Say, I never thought of it, but perhaps if I 
opened it I'd find out. {Opens and glances over it, and seems 
amazed and reads very slozvly aloud) 

14 Riverside Drive, New York City. 
Dear Cousin Elizabeth : 

Father wished me to write and ask you to visit us for a 
couple of weeks. I know that you really wouldn't want to 
come as you'd feel so shy and awkward in a city home and 
among the girls in our set and doubtless you have no clothes 
suitable for the city ; but as he wished me to ask you, I 
have done so. Yours truly, 

Margaret Neilson. 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

{Elizabeth looks up bezvildered.) 

Elizabeth — What a queer letter! I wonder if any of 
the girls are playing a trick on me. (thinks.) Now, I have it. 
I've heard mother mention her brother, Jerry Neilson, who 
went to the city and his aristocratic wife made him cut his 
country relations when they got rich. So this must be from 
my cousin. But how could any girl write such a rude, inso- 
lent letter like that ! She certainly was forced to write 
against her will. I bet her father never saw that letter. It 
would serve her right if I sent it to him. I'd feel out of 
place in a city home and in her set! Well, (laughing) that's 
a joke, when I've been in some of the best homes in New 
York City. I wonder what Edith Browning would say to 
that and a lot of the other girls at dear old Erskine. Well, 
my dear cousin, I'll just write you a polite note of refusal. 

(Goes to table and writes^ then reads aloud). 

"Miss Edith Norton regrets with pleasure the sincerely 
cordial and hospitable invitation of Miss Margaret Neilson." 
Oh, (suddenly jumping and clapping her hands.) I've an 
idea! I'll accept my kind and hospitable cousin's invitation 
since she's so anxious to have me and since she expects me 
to be such a queer freak from the backwoods, it would be 
too bad to disappoint her, so I'll dress and act the part of 
the poor country cousin she's looking for. Oh, (dancing 
around) it will be heaps of fun. I'll stay there a day and 
then I'll pay Edith Browning that visit I've promised her 
for ages. (Going towards the exit.) The girls at Erskine 
always said I was a born actress and now I'll have the 
chance to prove whether they were just flattering me or 
not. (Stops and glances at the address, 14 Riverside Drive.) 

8 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Why, Mildred Ewing lives just a couple houses from there. 
I'll dress there and just slip over when the coast is clear. 
There's some of my masquerade costumes up in the attic. 
I'll run and see if I can find something suitable for my new- 
role. Say, but won't I lead my dear cousin a merry dance! 
{Laughs and runs off the stage.) 

CURTAIN 

SCENE III 

(Sitting room in Neilson-s house. Margaret is seated doing 
fancyzvork. Helen comes in and Margaret rushes to meet 
her.) 

Helen — Say, what's up now that you had to have me 
come over in such a hurry? Have you any startling news? 
(Both go towards centre.) 

Margaret — Oh Helen, I'm in a terrible fix and all over 
that awful letter you made me write to — 

Helen — (interrupting indignantly.) I made you write! 

Margaret — Yes, to Elizabeth — or Lizzie as I guess she's 
called. Would you ever think she'd accept that invitation? 

Helen — No, she hasn't, has she? 

IMargaret — Yes, she has and here's her answer, (shows 
her a letter written on some very brightly colored paper or 
trapping paper.) Just look at the spelling and the style! 
Wouldn't it crimp you? And just wait until I read it to you 
(begins to read, zvhile Helen follozvs her over her shoulder 
and giggles all through the reading of it.) 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Dear Maggie — (Isn't that abominable t) — 

I've been wanting ter visit the city ever since I was skin 
high to a grasshopper, but didn't know I had any kin in the 
city that I could visit. It's awferlly kind of youse to ask 
me and I'll be there as sure as guns this coming Wednesday. 
I jest got some new clothes made by Susannah Sparks and 
they're mighty stylish, I kin tell yer. I aint a bit bashful so 
youse kin invite all the people in youse like. I'd like ter meet 
yer friends awful well. Remember me to yer pap. 

Yers to a sliver, 

Lizzie Norton. 

(tJirozvs the letter down on the table in disgust and make^ 
a face.) Isn't that perfectly awful? That means she'll be 
here tomorrow and oh, she must be dreadful ! And what if 
she should tell dad about that awful letter we wrote! Oh, 
why did I do it, and whatever will I do? {Sinks dozvn in 
chair and begins to cry.) 

Helen — (going over and putting her arm around her.) 
Oh, cheer up ! Things might be worse. You can manage to 
avoid the girls for awhile and you can give Lizzie books to 
read or something to keep her in the background and out of 
mischief. 

Margaret — (drying her eyes.) It's a good thing she isn't 
coming today for you know I've invited Edith Browning 
for tea and I want to be on my best behavior and be as nice 
as I can so as to make a good impression. If Lizzie were 
here, I would be mortified to death, (bell rings behind 
stage.) Oh, there's the bell. It's too early for Edith. I 
wonder who it is. (goes to the door and looks out.) There's 

10 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Nora answering the door now. (throzus up her hands in 
horror.) Good heavens, who can that awful person be! 

Helen — What person? {Goes and looks too and giggles. ^ 
Goodness, I bet she's escaped from some asylum. But 
listen, Nora's going to settle her. {both listen at door.) 

Nora — {behind the scenes) Yez can't come in here. This 
is no place for the likes of ye. Ye'd better thry the asylum 
where ye belong. 

Elizabet^h — {behind the scenes) Yer'd better go there 
yerself. Let me tell yer that I kin come in if I want ter. I've 
come to visit my Uncle Jerry and yer needn't think a red- 
haired freckled flip of a thing like yer can stop me. Now 
stop making a door of yerself and let me through or I'll tell 
my cousin Maggie on yer, 

Helen — Good heavens, here she comes! {Drags Mar- 
garet to front of stage zvhere they both fall limp into chairs.) 

Margaret — Merciful powers, it's Lizzie! Isn't she — 
{Elizabeth appears at door, dressed in a most ridiculous 
fashion and carries an old-fashioned telescope and a big 
sc'tchel. Both girls sit staring at her.) 

Elizabetpi — {Rushing up to them and throzving down 
her telescope) Helloa, girls! Be one of youse my cousin 
Maggie ? I'm Lizzie Norton. I got a chance ter come up a 
day earlier so I didn't think it would make any odds. ( The 
girls have jumped to their feet thunder-struck.) 

Elizabeth — {looks from one to the other) Say, what's 
the *Tvatter with youse ? Be youse both deef and dumb ? 

11 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Margaret — {extending her hand zvhich Elizabeth seizes) 
I'm Margaret Neilson so I suppose' you must be my cousin 
Lizzie. We were not expecting you until to-morrow. (Aside 
to Helen.) Oh, Helen, isn't she perfectly dreadful? 

Helen — {aside to Margaret) Well, I should say! And 
her clothes sure are the latest style as there's never been any 
like them — yet ! 

Elizabeth — {tugging at the elastic on her hat) Well, 
youse didn't tell me ter take off my hat, but I guess I'll make 
myself ter hum. {Takes off her hat and throzvs it on the 
couch and stares around.) My, aint everything here perfect- 
ly grand! {Goes around the room.) Youse folks must be 
pretty stylish. Now, ter home us folks aint never seen such 
nice things. {Turns suddenly.) Say, how's Uncle Jerry, 
Maggie ? 

Margaret — If you're referring to my father, his name is 
J. Ernest Neilson, so please call him Uncle Ernest. As for 
myself, I detest the name of Maggie. Do call me Margaret. 

Elizabeth — Oh, yer rather peppery aint yer? I'm sure 
Jerry is just as good a name as yer kin find anywhere. 
Why, w^e named our old white horse that and a better horse 
yer couldn't have. As for Maggie, our black and white 
spotted cow is called that and she gives more milk than any 
of them. {Margaret looks more and more disgusted and 
Helen amused.) Say, aint vou going to interduce me to 
your friend? At hum we always interduce everybody to 
everybody else. 

Margaret — I beg your pardon. This is my friend, Miss 
Helen Montgomery. {Helen raises her hand very high and 
Elizabeth pulls it dozvn and shakes it heartily.) 

12 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Elizabeth — Please ter meet you, Helly. I suspect I'll 
get real acquainted with yer before my visit's over. Yer 
don't look quite as stuck-uppish as my cousin there. {Mar- 
garet makes a face zvhile Helen laughs.) 

Helen — I feel greatly complimented, I'm sure. {Aside) 
She's summed up Margaret pretty well for a green country 
girl. 

Elizabeth — {examining the girl's clothes) Say, girls, yer 
dressed up mighty swell. Be yer going to a party? 

Margaret — {proudly) Why, no, these are just our every- 
day clothes. 

Elizabeth — {in surprise). You don't say! {Smoothing 
dozvn her own dress proudly.) Don't you like my new dress? 
{Margaret looks disdainfid.) I was bound to have Susannah 
make it stylish and put in all the pleats and frills she could. 
I think she made a real good job of it, don't youse? 

Helen — {sarcastically) Why, yes, I think it is beautiful 
{looking at Elizabeth's hat) and what a lovely hat you have 
and so becoming. {Turns her hack to laugh.) 

Elizabeth — {getting the hat and turning it around in 
her hand) Yes, I think it mighty nice and so should it be 
for it was awferlly expensive. I paid $1.98 for the shape 
itself at {names a local milliner) and I trimmed it myself. 
(Puts it back on sofa. Helen and Margaret sit dozvn.) 

Helen — {aside) It wouldn't need a detective to make 
that discovery, that's one thing sure. 

Elizabeth — {unfastening satchel and taking out a gaily 
colored centre-piece) Now, I'll jest set down and work at 

13 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 



this centre-piece. {Sits down in rocking chair and zvorks.) 
I'm going to give it to you, Mag — Margaret, I mean, for yer 
parler table. 

Margaret (aside) Oh, gee, imagine that on our highly 
polished table. I guess it will be more likely to adorn the 
attic, (aloud) Oh, that's very nice of you. By the way, 
how did you find your way here? 

Helen — Oh yes, how did you when you had never been 
in the city before ? 

Elizabeth — Well, now, I did have a mighty hard time 
of it at first. I asked one of them policemen if he could 
tell me where Uncle Jer — where Mr. J. Ernest Neilson 
lived and he just laughed at me. (She keeps rocking.) 

Helen — Well, I should think he would. Didn't you know 
any better than that? 

Elizabeth — (still sezving) Why, I was told that them 
policemen could answer any kind of a question. At hum 
everybody knows where everybody else lives so I thought 
it would be the same here. (Both girls laugh.) Anyway he 
asked what his address was and I showed him the top of 
yer letter. 

Margaret — (in horror) You didn't show him my letter! 

Elizabeth — Sure and he must have got a good squint at 
what was in it, too, for he looked so funny. Well he told 
me to get into one of them street car things, and the feller 
who was all dressed up in brass buttons and took the tickets 
told me when to get into another so it was real easy. But 
I think the people here are dreadfully imperlite. They kept 

14 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

giggling and giggling. I asked one what the joke was and 
she grew awfully red and didn't answer. I think it's mighty 
rude not to tell other folks the joke, why down to huni' — 
(looks lip just as the girls are turning up their noses). Say, 
what's the matter with your noses? Have they nervous 
twitches in them? Get a bottle of Dr. Cure-all's syrup of 
tar at (name of local druggist) and it will soon stop that for 
it cured my cold. (Rising and throzving fancy zcork on 
chair.) Laws a me, I'm awfully thirsty. Where's the 
kitchen (goes tozvards door, Margaret starts up). Never 
mind coming. I'll just use the dipper so you don't need to 
get me a glass. 

Margaret — Well, tell Nora to get you a drink. (Exit 
Elisabeth). Oh Helen, I never saw anybody so common — 

Helen — (interrupting). Why she's the most wwcommon 
specimen I ever met in all my life. 

Margaret — (proceeding) — and horrid before — and oh, 
(jumping up in consternation), I forgot all about Edith 
coming. She'll be here soon now and I simply must get 
Lizzie out of the way before she comes. Oh Helen, (putting 
her arm around her), hurry up and think up something to 
help me out of this hole. 

Helen — (aside), And she was so grateful when I tried 
to help her the last time. But she's in a pretty tight box now 
so I guess I'll have to try and patch it up. I wish her impor- 
tant ancestors had given her some brains. (Aloud.) Oh, tell 
her — tell her — . Now let me think (thinks for a minute and 
suddenly grabs Margaret's arm). I have it. Tell her that 
you know she must be very tired after her long journey and 

15 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

that you're sure she would like to rest and have tea quietly 
in her own room. Nora could take it up on a tray. Lizzie 
will think it's so considerate of you, I'm pretty sure, and the 
novelty of having things sent up to her might appeal to 
her. Let's try it anyway. 

Margaret — All right. I'd try anything. (Elisabeth ap- 
pears.) But here she comes now. (Elizabeth comes toivard 
centre and Margaret goes to meet her and puts her arm 
around FAizabetKs zvaist). Oh Lizzie, I know you must be 
pretty tired after your long journey. I think perhaps you 
had better rest quietly until tea time. Then I'll tell Nora 
to fix you up a nice dainty tray and you'll be under no ner- 
vous strain at all. 

Elizabeth — Me tired after that speck of a ride on the 
train ! Why I've saw me walk five miles ter town and go 
home and milk ten cows and not be a bit the worse for it. 
And talk about nerves. Well I may be nervy but I aint got 
them nerves that make people act like sillies. Now I'll just 
go up and put on my red chiny silk dress Susannah fixed 
up that stylish with yeller bows and six frills and point de 
spit lace. It will only take me a few minutes and I'll be 
down in lots of time for supper. (Gets valise and goes 
tozvards exit, then stops at one end of stage), (Aside), I 
guess it's time that I ended this farce. I think I've given 
my dear cousin a pretty strong jolt, judging from her face 
and actions. Gee, she's the limit all right. Anyway, I had 
better change into a decent dress as I would hate to offend 
Uncle Terry — I mean Uncle J. Ernest Neilson (exit Eliza- 
beth). ^ 

(Margaret sits moodily in chair with head propped on 
knees. Helen sits toying with some fancy zvork.) 

16 ^ 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Helen — For goodness sake, Margaret, cheer up, you're 
not dead yet ! 

Margaret — I wish I were. What am I going to do? 
and Edith is due any minute. I wonder what made Lizzie 
strike today. 

Helen — (explosively) Well, do you know, I like her! 

Margaret — (in surprise) Do you really? Well, I believe 
I do myself. There's something rather refreshing about 
her and she's so frank and good-natured. She doesn't bear 
the least grudge for that horrid letter we sent. Perhaps she 
doesn't see anything wrong with it though. Oh, whatever 
made me do it? I feel as mean as dirt everytime I think of 
it. I'd give anything if I had never written it. 

Helen — Yes, I guess it was pretty shabby, but what's 
done cannot be undone. Anyway, I don't suppose she knows 
enough to take offense at it. (Starting up.) Oh, I have an 
idea! 

Margaret — (moodily), I notice that you do catch on to 
one once in a while. Well let's hear it. 

Helen — (aside in disgust) Now, wouldn't that crimp 
you ! She couldn't find an idea all by herself in a thousand 
years. (Aloud). Why, I was just thinking that Lizzie 
would look quite pretty if she had a decent dress to wear 
and was fixed up some. Now, what's to hinder you lending 
her one of your pretty dresses and doing her hair in some 
becoming fashion? I bet she wouldn't look bad at all. 

Margaret — Why, she wouldn't. I'll go right up now 
and do it (starts toward exit), or she'll be coming down in 

17 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

some awful concoction of a dress. Oh, dear, I feel awfully 
nervous. 

Helen — Did you hear what she said about nerves? The 
very idea, when nerves are all the go now. (Bell rings). Oh, 
there's Edith now. I wish she had stayed away for half 
an hour longer. 

Margaret — So do I. And however will I manage to fix 
Lizzie up now ? 

Helen — Talk for a few minutes and then excuse yourself 
and I'll entertain Edith until you come back. 

Margaret — (warmly) Helen, you're a dear and just full 
of ideas. Idon't know what I'd do without you. (Goes out). 

Helen — (aside dramatically), Behold the expanding of 
Miss Margaret Neilson's character. She is actually waken- 
ing up to what I am trying to do for her and has even ex- 
pressed one grain of gratitude. Well I guess I'll hang on to 
the grain, perhaps it will sprout. (Sees Lizizie's hat and 
fancy zuork.) Goodness I'd better get these out of sight or 
they'd be a sure giveaway. (Rims and thrusts fancy zvork 
under a cushion and throws^ hat behind couch. Margaret 
appears arm in arm with Edith who is well hut quietly 
dressed. Helen goes to meet them.) 

Margaret — You know Helen Montgomery don't you, 
Miss Browning? 

Edith — Oh call me Edith, it's more sociable and I'll call 
you Margaret. Why yes, (shaking hands with Helen), I 
have met you several times, haven't I? Coming to a new 

18- 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

city it takes a person quite awhile to get acquainted, but I'm 
managing not too badly. 

Helen — Why, I should say not. You have made hosts of 
friends already from all accounts. 

Edith — Yes, everybody has been awfully kind to me and 
then Fd met several people when I was at Erskine. (All girls 
take seats, Edith sitting zvhere she can see the exit by turning 
slightly.) I hope you girls weren't expecting me any sooner. 
I had some shopping to do and that delayed me. 

Margaret — Oh, that's all right, but we were just saying 
we wish you'd hurry up so that we could have a nice, long 
chat about everything before supper, so — 

Helen — {interrupting) Oh, Edith, do tell us about some 
of the jolly times you had at Erskine College. I'm just 
aching to hear about them. (Drazvs chair closer to Edith). 

Margaret — Yes, please do! (Draws her chair closer). 

Edith — Why, I could tell you lots, but really I w^ouldn't 
know where to begin and once I began, I wouldn't know 
where to stop. Eor one thing we used to have midnight sup- 
pers whenever one of the girls would get a box from home. 
We'd all meet in one room and have nothing but candles 
for a light and when we heard anyone coming, we would 
have to blow them out, quick as wink. Oh, but it was ex- 
citing when we heard any footsteps outside! There'd be a 
wild scamper, I can tell you. 

Helen and Margaret — I guess there would be. What 
would you do ? 

19 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Edith — Everybody would grab the first thing that came 
handy and we'd make ourselves as small as possible. We'd 
squeeze four or five into bed with the eats and a few under 
while the rest would get into a closet. One of the girls 
would snore and the teacher would think she was asleep 
and pass on. It was pretty hard on the eats, though, being 
grabbed in such a hurry and getting all crushed up, but then 
it was lots of excitement and fun. 

Helen — What else did you do? 

Edith — Well, we put on some pretty good amateur plays. 
Beth Norton, was simply grand in anything like that. Say, 
{with enthusiasm) you just ought to know Beth. She's the 
dearest girl out. Everybody raved over her at Erskine. She 
was just bubbling over with fun and mischief and kept 
things lively all the time. She was so good-hearted and kind 
too and had the most forgiving nature. One girl said she 
was so full of fun that there wasn't a speck of rooi.i for 
spite to lodge in. 

Margaret — She must be lovely. I'd like awfully well to 
meet her. 

Edith — Well, I don't see why you couldn't for I just got 
a letter from her and she said she was going to visit me in 
a couple days. She said she was visiting some snobbish 
cousin of hers who needs to be taken down a peg or two. 
I'd love to see her do it, but I wouldn't like to be the cousin, 
I can tell you. 

Margaret — No, nor I either, but those people who put 
on such airs ought to have it taken out of them some way 
or other. I wonder who she is. 

2(5 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Edith — I don't know. Beth wouldn't think of giving her 
away. {Helen stares fixedly at Margaret and nods. Mar- 
garet rises). 

Margaret — I wonder if you'd excuse me for a few min- 
utes. I have some things I must attend to. 

Editpi — Why of course. Don't hurry back. {Gaaes at 
Margaret starting to go out. Elizabeth appears at exit very 
daintily dressed.) 

Edith — {rushing past Margaret seizes Elizabeth and hugs 
her), Why Beth, you dear girl, {pulls her tozvards centre), 
wherever did you come from? The girls were just saying 
they didn't know you. {Margaret and Helen both stand in 
amazement.) That's funny. 

Elizabeth — Oh, helloa Edith ! I didn't know you knew 
my cousin. I'm just staying here until tomorrow and then 
I'm going to your place for awhile. 

Edith — {aside in horror), So this Margaret Neilson is 
the snob Beth is to take down a peg. Good gracious, but 
I've put my foot into it. {Edith and Beth go to one side and 
eagerly converse in lozv tones). 

Margaret — {to Helen), Lizzie, Beth Norton! Why 
whatever does it mean anyway? {thinks). How can she be 
one and the same person ? Oh, oh, I see it now. The names 
are both nicknames and I never imagined my cousin Eliza- 
beth was the much talked of Beth. And so I'm the snob that 
Edith said Beth was to take down a peg ! {Pauses) And the 
worst of it is I know I deserve it after that horrible letter. 
I don't deserve to have her ever speak to me again. 

21 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

Helen — But, whatever did she mean by dressing up like 
that ! 

Margaret — Why, don't you see? Didn't you say that 
when she acted, she had all the professionals beaten to 
pieces? Well, she's acted that country gawk I inferred in 
that letter to take me down that peg. Gee, she's taken me 
down a whole bunch of them. And oh look how we treated 
her since she came. Oh, Helen, I'm so ashamed. I wish 
there was a hole in the floor so that I could crawl into it. 

Helen — (aside), Thank goodness, she's admitted that 
much. There's hope for her yet. (Aloud.) We both acted 
awfully mean and for my part I'm going to take my pill and 
swallow it. 

Margaret — I will too. It's mighty bitter, but the worse 
the medicine tastes, as a rule, the better are the results. I'll 
never — (Elisabeth comes up to her). 

Elizabeth — Well, Mag — Margaret, I guess it's up to me 
to explain. You see when I got your letter which showed 
me so plainly that you considered any person brought up in 
the country was some sort of a curiosity and nothing but 
an ignoramus,. I thought I would come and explain to you 
that the farmers of today are among the best educated and 
most wealthy people there are and their daughters are re- 
ceiving the very best advantages that can be gotten. But 
when I read your letter over, I couldn't resist the temptation 
of acting the awkward gawk of a specimen you expected. 
Did I succeed? 

Margaret — Succeed! Oh goodness, it was awful. (Sinks 
into a chair and starts to cry), Oh, Liz — Beth, I mean. I 

22 



THAT AWFUL LETTER 

know I've been as nasty and snobbish as I could. And you 
don't know how mean I've felt ever since I wrote that awful, 
awful letter. I've wished again and again that I'd never 
been so rude and horrid. Will you ever forgive me? (Cries). 

Elizabeth — (Putting her arm arojind her), Oh, cheer up, 
Margaret, of course I'll forgive you; you just need some of 
your notions changed. That's all. And when it comes to for- 
giving, perhaps I'd better ask you to forgive me for playing 
such a trick on you. (Aside, laughing), But, gee it was the 
best fun I've had for ages. Their shocked faces! (laugh), 
their turned up noses, (laughs), their open disgust. Oh 
glory, it was worth a circus to see them. 

Edith — Well, let's forget everything that's been done 
and said and begin all .over again. I think we'll be great 
friends. Let's shake over it. (She takes Helen s hand, Eliza- 
beth takes Margaret's and they stand zvith crossed hands in 
front of stage). 

Elizabeth — Oh girls, see how our hands are crossed ; I 
wonder who's going to be married first. 

CURTAIN 



Christmas Entertainments 

CHRISTMAS AT PUNKIN HOLLER. A new Christmas play by EHz*. 
beth F. Guptill that abounds in clean, wholesome fun from beginning to end. 
It depicts the trials of the teacher of an old-fashioned "deestric school" in 
conducting the last rehearsal for the Christinas Entertainment. Some of the 
pupils are in "custom." as big Jake puts it, and "Sandy Claus" is there. The 
children go through their parts with gusto and more or less success. May be 
ffiren in any schoolroom by any number. Easy to produce. Costumes sitnplc, 
Children and grown-ups will be delighted with CHRISTMAS AT PUNKWt 
HOLLER. Price, 15 cents. 

A TOPSY TURVY CHRISTMAS. Another new Christmas, play by 
lizabeth F. Guptill. It is decidedly humorous from start to finish. The 
characters are strong and at every turn of the play there is a happy surprise 
for the audience. The children are tired of "minding," and the everything being 
"Must so," so they start to find a place where they will find things different. 
They find it in Topsy Turvy Land, where they have strange experiences. 
When at last they have a Topsy Turvy Christmas, they are ready to go home 
and be satisfied with things just as they are. May be given in any school- 
room by any number of children not less than fifteen. In two short scenes. 
This clever play will prove a sure winner wherever produced. Price, 15 cents. 

CHRISTMAS AT MCCARTHY'S. Elizabeth F. Guptill. Here is a new 

Christmas play for the older children and as many young children as are 

available. It combines in a marked degree the gentlest pathos and the most 

•■arkltng humor. Several nationalities are represented in the tenement and 

ere is opportunity for the introduction of specialties if desired. Circum- 

ances cause Elsie, the tenement orphan, to believe Jimmy, the newsbojr, will 

auy her a Christmas present, and it seems it is up to Jimmy to do it. Christmas 

is an unknown quantity at the tenement, but all agree that Elsie must ,not 

be disappointed, and plan to have one somehow. The entertainment is given 

by the ^'inhabitints thimsilves," at McCarthy's. In the midst of the fun, 

Elsie's lost father walks in, and the finale is a general rejoicing. Price, 25c. 

CHRISTMAS DIALOGUES. By Cecil J. Richmond. A book full of the 
choicest new and original dialogues for Christmas, parts for both boys ana 
girls being well provided for. Some are for the little folks, in rhyme* some 
are for intermediate grades, and others for older children. Every dialog'ie in 
this book is decidedly to the point and easy to prepare. They will delight 
young and old alike. Contents i Is There a Santa Claus? 2 small children, 
Santa Claus and chorus; Herbert's Discovery, 2 boys; The Christmas Dinner, 
2 little girls, 1 larger girl and 2 boys; Playing Santa Claus, 1 small and 2 
larger boys; A Double Christmas Gift, 2 small girls, 2 larger girls, and 3 
^>oy8. Pnce, 15 cents. 

EVERGREEN AND HOLLY— SONG AND DRILL. By ElJzabeth F. 
vuptill. A drill for any even number of boys and girls, or all girls. The 
girls carry ^garlands of evergreen while the boys carry wreaths of the same. 
After a spectacular drill and fancy march they all sing a beautiful Chistmas 
song, which accompanies the drill. Following the song they wind a spiral to 
the center of the stage, unwind same and march off. Complete instructions 
are given. It is the best Christmas drill ever published; easy to produce and 
decidedly novel. Price, 15 cents. 

PEARL'S CHRISTMAS. Original, pleasing and interesting Christmas 
dialogue with an excellent moral, for 3 boys and 4 girls. Price, 5 cents; 
seven copies, 25 cents. 

SITTING UP FOR SANTA CLAUS. A humorous dialogue for 6 girls, 
6 boys, and Santa Claus. If you expect to have a Christmas entertainment. 
you surely want this. Single copy, 10 cents; or 10 copies, 60 cents. 

Paine PubUsbing Company. Dayton, Ohio 




014 211997 3 • iJl^ 

»««r short dilr 



RCXDIf 

COMIC ENTERTAIl 

to-4ate cotWction of thci 
poetry u to i%Ht almost i 
Io«raet, two for mfldt A»<i - 
ioiiues. Price, thirtjf ceatt*. 

HUMOROUS MONOLOGUES. By Mayme P. mtn«?. A finf col. 
lection of tw«ttity-mn« original mooologrucg designed • ' ,,^ 

teur and the profesaional moiiologist. Practically © 

a\itkor ka« brought out with skill this huinorous j ' .-» 

ttp th« lift of thtt country girl juid woman, while the tp.gnu'aa'iit; ■ 
the city, who ic interested in ocrties, teas and golf, is jo«t ac 1 
depicted. Prke. thirty cent*. 

THE EXCELLENT SCHOOL SPEAKER. Tl«i "^xceiknt"- k true 
to name. A book of over one hundred pages, especially compiled for tw 
by C. S. Bradford, containing selections of poetry- and prose, new and fre&b. 
Full of fifood things. You can make no mistake in securing this speak' 
Price, fifteen cents. 

HOWE'S COMIC SCHOOL SPEAKER. Full of short, pithy, coniK, 
and humorous recitations. This book should be in every trchooi. Wice, 
fifteen cents. 

HOWE'S EXHIBITION SCHOOL SPEAKS • ne 

hundred pages of selections of great range from of 

o«r country, suitable for schools, homes and exi. «trt 

thing out. Send for it. Price, fifteen CHsnts. 

THE JUVENILE SPEAKER. Every piece in this Httl« bof>k can !>« 
IMied ixid is worthy of its place in this useful work. It ie undouljtedly th« 
best book oi the kind, for thtj money, published; and is highly refcc 
mended by teachers everywhere. Price, twenty cents. 

LITTLE PIECES FOR LITTLE PEOPLE ^--^ ' - - .^ 

cards containing twenty-nine bright, pretty recit. 
from five to ten yeara of j^ge. Teachers Mke tb 
oonrenient form. Being printed on cards, all weas 
Pric*. fifteen centa. 

MONOLOGUES POP YOUNG FOLKS 



IS, 

cir 



|?ifty-four original, cl: 
«iK to sixtoen, or for 
jnay b« a recounting t 
alirc, and you are car 



By Vayirn X?.lddle P>?tnoy, 



ous mono 
who imp. 
but a- mo 

d;pg~witU inter »•'. 



of subjects. Also twenty-eight selections as follows 



For Washington's 
ay (4). For Memorial Day. Flag Day, and 



(i). ror Memorial JL^ay. tae-eDny, ana 
For Thanksgiving Day (8). For Oxnel- 



Birthdar (4). For I^bor 
•other Fatriotic Occaaion^ (S). 
XDBS (9). Price, nhirty cent*. 

RECITATIONS FOR PRIMARY GRADES, ORIGINAL AND 

UNIQUE. By Eli«abeth F. GuptiiL A collection of an nnusual sort 
Every one k as int«r«8ting as a story, and ererv one has a rery <l<scided 
point Not a recitation in th* collection that is dull or impractical. Prlc^ 
fifteen cents. 

THE NORMAL SPEAKER, A book suited to the wants r^i aH. hem 
the emallest school-child to the oldest reader. Do you \/ 
eioQtient paasag^es ever delivered by our greatest orators? D 
most Bowl-stirnng patriotism? Do you want the purest, 
most ennobling path^os? Do you want the most droll, ecc> 'ji- 

croas descriptions and characterirations? Do you want the est 

and moat fide-splitting humor? Do you want to ,'; onsr n »» 

litarature and elocution flimong your pupils? D ■ '»• 

recited by the moet eminent elocutionists? Do 'h« 

quint«e»enoe of all that is suitable for reading -^ols, 

e«hibition«, literarv societies, picnics, or in the ihnniy or in? vale reading 
room? Buy the Normal Sp««iker ani^you will be sure to find m it eoniO' 
thing that will supply your wants. Pnce, thirty cente. 

Our large Entertainment Catalogue sent on request 

PAINE PUBLISHING COMPANY. DAYTON, OKXO. 



